Each Shard
by De Crowbar Bros
Summary: Sometimes one can't help but wonder about what they can't remember.


**Trigger warning: Gore and some mild harassment.  
**

_"Hello. I'm pleased to meet you. I'm Maylene, and I'm the Gym Leader. I don't really know what it means to be strong, or how I got to be the Gym Leader. But I will do the best I can as the Gym Leader. I take battling very seriously. Whenever you're ready!"_

Damn, why did that line always come up when she was tired? Coral eyes swimming among the delicate wood patterns of her home, high up on the rocky crags of Veilstone, Maylene wondered why she always had to mention it to every challenger, the fact the memory of her promotion was rather…vague.

"_No! Don't-" There was the fleeting memory of cloth over her mouth, choking her, taking away her breath, her sight, leaving her with only a suffocating feeling of terror._

"Ah!" with a soft gasp, the teenager shook her head, sitting upright on the bed, leaning against the frame as she rubbed her upper arm. It always became twitchy and tense when she remembered (usually unwillingly) the small snippet of her childhood she could actually call up at will. She often wondered where the rest of it had gone. All the time; over her morning energy drinks, at cafés. Her father had told her something about an operation, but even that memory was jumbled and mixed up, worsening the unfortunate condition she had of barely knowing who she was.

Forcing a smile upon her limp lips, she leaped off her bed, onto her feet. There was no point brooding, there was a day to get on with! Hastily beginning her morning stretches, she occupied her mind with the idea of being on time to man the gym. It was the job she'd earned after all.

Right?

* * *

Maylene had always loved going out. Every night, if she had a choice. She didn't really have enough friends to accommodate this wish, however. Not because she was hard to get along with, but simply because Veilstone was a comparatively small town. Her dad kept telling her not to turn up past midnight alone but she'd always laugh and say, "Dad, I'm a teen now! I can handle anything!"

Little did she know just what she had committed herself to.

"Make sure to be back before midnight-Maylene, are you listening?" The stern looking man grumbled, more than a little annoyed with his daughter's antics. It was the third time this week she'd run off after dark. The daughter in question, who was on the porch typing ribbons into her short cropped hair nodded impatiently.

"I know, you tell me all the time! You know I don't like exercising after dark but Stanly said he'd make it worth my while! He'll look after me Dad, I promise!" she bounced to her feet, kissing her father on the forehead as he gazed disapprovingly at her bare feet. She giggled, turning and skipping down the steps, leaving her father to watch his only child dash down the street with a heavy feeling of dread.

Pulling her blue coat with its little tufts of fur around the collar further around her shoulder, Maylene blew into her hands, tapping her foot impatiently. She was illuminated in the sickly light from the game corner, the place she was strictly forbidden from standing with a thousand feet after dark. But Stanly had sent her a text, even now the pink cell phone was clutched tightly in her half frozen fingers.

"'Ey, Maylene!" Her head shot up at his coarse voice, spotting him loping over the square, a sleazy grin on his sunken lips. Stanly did the same thing he always did when they got together, grinned a broken toothed smile, slapped her ass, and called her "babe". The teen long learned to ignore these small things, to smile back, pretend she wasn't nervous. As far as Maylene was concerned it could hardly be called sexual assault, whatever her father said.

Maylene smiled at the shady and much older teen. "So are…we going for a night time jog or something?" she questioned, honestly quite excited. Stanly nodded, his crooked grin widening.

"Yeah, just along the next route. You game, babe?" Maylene opened her mouth to protest the pet name, then closed it, as she always did.

"Yeah, let's go!"

* * *

They ran further than they ever had, right up to Lake Valour, before Stanly called halt. Maylene was glad of the rest, she was something more than exhausted. Stretching and trying to slow her breathing, she stared up at the full moon with a dulled awe. It really was beautiful. Stanly turned to her, eyes flashing in the dull light.

"Hey, you wanna go to the lake? It's pree' nice at this time, y'know?" He shrugged.

Maylene blinked. "Oh….I don't know if that's such a good idea, I have to get home before midnight-" He seized her arm.

"C'mon just a quick look," he insisted, beginning to walk along the dirty, tree-lined path. Maylene let him do as he wished, half because she figured he was right, and half because she couldn't pull her arm out of his grip anyway.

She allowed herself to be amused by his antics, gazing at the quaint path they travelled until it widened into the large clearing with a lake, well the lake. Lake Valor. He let her go then, finally. Maylene rubbed her sore wrist, walking ahead of him, entranced by the beauty of the lake at night. She stretched. "Aah…c'mere Stanly, it's so beautiful…"

There was no answer. Confused, Maylene turned on her heel, finding the clearing and grasses to her right empty.

"H-huh…?" she wondered aloud, seconds before she caught the beginning of a breath behind her. Panicking and trying to run, the teen was caught by the shoulder and yanked back.

"No! Don't-" There was the fleeting memory of cloth over her mouth, choking her, taking away her breath, her sight, leaving her with only a suffocating feeling of terror.

Suddenly she was awake. Gasping, she stared, at the featureless ceiling and all she could see around her, heart thumping against her ribs, often making her wince. She was…tied to a table; she could feel the ropes scratching her. It was so terribly itchy. She curled her bare toes and squirmed, too afraid to find her voice and cry out. Maylene had no idea where she was, who could hear her.

Besides right on cue, the door squealed open and a familiar silhouette walked in.  
"S…stanly?" she stared, insanely relieved immediately melting, words spilling out of her like a waterfall.

"H-help me! What's going on!?" she cried. "Please, untie me I…" she gulped as he leaned over her, smirking in a much more dangerous way than she could ever remember, a dirty finger scratching the pristine skin of her cheek.

"You'll make a pretty doll, y'know?" he leaned against the table. Maylene began to feel sick.

"What? A doll? S-stop kidding around, Stanly." She laughed weakly, not wanting to believe it. In a second she'd wake up, she was sure. She'd wake up and this would all be a horrible dream. Even though the itching of her wrists was more real than anything, the ache in her lower back. It couldn't be real. She lived a few seconds in blissful denial before she jumped at the revving of what sounded like a chainsaw a little ways down the hall. What the hell was something like that doing around here? There was also the sound of metal scraping metal not far to her left, where Stanly was presumably standing. It made her insides crawl and she twisted her head, trying to see him.

"What are you doing? Hurry up and save-"

The words caught in her throat as he turned and she caught sight of the two rusty instruments in his hands that looked sort of like scalpels, or operating tools of some sort.

"A doll, love," he repeated, his grin growing as he approached. "We're gonna make you into a doll." Maylene's wide eyes followed the rusty instruments in a great arch and down towards her stomach, where it made contact to the right of her belly button. It sliced the tender, trembling flesh and began making its way upward, cleaving through her, blood spreading across her belly in its wake. _No,_ she thought, _no, it's rusty. It'll cause an infection._ Was that what he wanted? The door squeaked again, jerking open, she jerked and it made her wail. He slapped her, told her to shut the fuck up, laughing at the tears running down her cheeks. Two others joined him then, just as cold as unyielding and what remained of her will melt to jelly when she realized they were holding a dissecting knife and forceps.

The next thing she was aware of was the sensation of fire and blood, crackling wildly throughout her body. A fire that burned painfully and out of control, setting her nerves on fire. She writhed helplessly, screaming, crying out for help among the sizzling. It was destroying her very being, she was going to die. She was going to die.

They had her way with her for what seemed like an eternity. They touched her too, when they weren't violating her with knives. She screamed until she lost her voice, then continued to gape until everything went black.

* * *

"You don't understand!" she blubbered, feeling terribly exposed in the cold morning air, with half of the locals staring at her. Facing her, the older man's face creased with worry, his daughter was more than hysterical and the entire town was staring at her.

"Maylene, you-"

"No Dad, I don't mean about…" she gulped, unable to force the words; they made her want to puke.

"I mean-Dad, I just want to die!"

The admission was met with a dreaded silence, passers by frozen in place, agape, some even turning their heads towards her father, as if they were waiting for something.

* * *

"This is for your own good, Maylene." Her father had said, sadly although his daughter had refused to interpret it so. The drugs had long since kicked in, leaving her limbs sluggish and useless, like she could fight all these men anyway. Staring dreamily at the ceiling, she whispered with a surprising amount of malice.

"What will you do with me?"

"…The only thing we can. We'll make you forget."

A dull and suppressed fear came over her and she blinked.

"And then what?"

"We've decided to…make you a gym leader."

The closest thing to panic she could summon in her current state fluttered in her chest. She'd always wanted to be a contest star and travel, her dad knew that. So why? Why was he doing this? It wasn't fair. Men always got their way.

She decided right then, to herself as her real self drifted away under the influence of the heavy sedative. She had to be stronger, stronger than everyone who wanted to hurt her.

* * *

For some reason, Maylene had to train harder that morning. Something was tapping, knocking at the back of her mind like a bothersome insect. It could have been a memory, but she had no wish to remember it, trying to forget among the flying kicks and punches she dealt to the battered punching bag inches from the tip of her nose.

Sweat trickled down her brow as Maylene landed near the fortieth punch to the bag. Her knees were trembling, she was close to giving out. The Karate Quads looked on from their posts, worried. One voiced his concern.

"Miss Maylene, are you alright?"

"Yes!" she shrieked shrilly, before she caught herself and mumbled a quick apology. There was no time for courtesy, she had to be strong. Biting her lip, she let out a yell and forced another kick out of her legs. Upon the next she stumbled, but managed to catch herself on the wall to the left, panting heavily. Her heart was still racing; she could practically feel adrenaline pumping through her veins, the burning along her lower left side among the chant still going in her brain.

_Train train train. _

That's all it was, wasn't it? She was at her limit that much was clear, but she was trembling, twitching with the itch to keep going as if there was some urgent need. Pressing her fingers to her temple, she closed her eyes and rubbed, trying to think of anything else but the burning in her side, that cursed birthmark always burned when she worked too hard. The teen traced the jagged line running from the left of her belly button almost to her breast, where it faded finally. When that didn't serve to help any, she began mopping at the sweat on her forehead, her cheeks. When she lifted her head, again all the Quads were staring. Eyebrow rising in annoyance, the teen asked them what the matter was. The youngest and most forward in these sorts of matters spoke first.

"Why are you crying, Miss Maylene?"

Crying? She stroked the corner of her left eye, staring at the wetness on her fingers, confused. Why was she crying? She didn't let a lick of her confusion reach the Karate Quads, putting on an annoyed expression.

"It's just sweat."

"_I have to be stronger…stronger than everyone who wants to hurt me." _


End file.
